


Aural Fixation

by KyloTrashForever



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bad With His Words Ben Solo, Crack Treated Seriously, Erotic Fiction Narrators, Erotica, F/M, First Meetings, Masturbation Interruptus, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pornception, Voice Acting, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23107447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: These are the moments she’d been most excited for—getting a chance to know him when they weren’t recording. There’s so much downtime in between takes; it really would be perfect, except…“Great job,” she offers with a smile as Ben pulls off his bulky headphones.Ben flicks his eyes in her direction, giving her a tight nod of his head. He pushes away from the table a little quicker than necessary, stalking out of the room without so much as a word in reply.Yes, it would be perfect, except… Ben Solo seems to intensely dislike her.In which Ben and Rey read porn together, and Rey is the only one affected... right?
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 168
Kudos: 1498
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	1. Hear Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO. I have such a love/hate relationship with the reylo_prompts account. (Mostly love. 😪) they keep me busy, that’s for sure. 😂
> 
> Based on this prompt: _“Rey and Ben both work recording narration for audio books and get hired to narrate an erotic novel together.”_
> 
> Props to LovesBitca8 for the amazing name pun. (She knows the way to my heart. 💕)  
> I know this is probably not (in fact I’m almost positive it isn’t) 100% accurate to the profession, but this is just a silly setup for porn. Just go with it.  
> ANYWAY THIS IS SILLY DON’T EXPECT MUCH.  
> 

> _She makes a sweet sound of contentment, and it spurs him on enough that he draws out slowly, feeling her tight channel grip him with every inch. He pushes back inside just as languidly, closing his eyes and focusing on the slick stretch of her, hungrily taking more from her mouth as he buries himself deep._
> 
> _His fingers tangle in her hair, angling her, drifting back to the slim column of her neck as he murmurs against her skin. “You feel so good. So good.” He slides into her a little faster. “Tell me what you need.”_

Rey is staring at him as he reads, transfixed by the sound of his voice and the way he dives into the character without a shred of embarrassment or hesitation. 

It’s easy to get lost in his words, Rey often finding herself distracted by the soft shape of his plush mouth as he forms them—and it’s hard to reconcile this living, breathing person with the low, disembodied voice she’s heard on the other end of the recording so many times. 

She and Ben Solo (or _Kylo Ren_ as he goes by in the romance business, as silly as it sounds) have recorded _hundreds_ of hours of erotic fiction together—a handful of full length audio books, nearly a half dozen novellas—but in the year since they started working together, he and Rey (or _Kira Rian_ ) have never met.

At least till now.

A soft tap on the glass jars her from her inner musings, and she whips her head around to see Poe on the other side, waving his hand in gesture that she read Melanie’s next line. She feels heat creep up her neck at having lost her train of thought _again_ —shaking away any embarrassment and focusing on her next line.

 _“Logan.”_ Rey makes her voice breathy and soft for this part. “ _Harder.”_

Ben is watching her as she delivers, eyes lingering for only a moment before he turns his face sharply down to the page in front of him to finish up his POV section. Rey doesn’t have any more speaking parts in this chapter—and she’s free to watch openly as he reads through the last of the scene. It’s hard not to let her mind wander to the things he’s saying, nearly impossible _not_ to imagine the sensual acts described from his mouth—but she can’t help the way it’s not _Logan_ in her mind touching and tasting and moving against and inside—no, admittedly, it’s very much _Ben Solo._

And who can blame her, with Ben’s soft hair and softer mouth, with his strong features and his dark eyes and shoulders that look like they were made to drape your legs over? It makes for very distracting sessions, that’s for sure.

She’d been excited to meet him, to put a face to the voice she’s admittedly been enjoying for the better part of a year—so she’d jumped on the opportunity, when Poe had pitched the idea of a live reading. 

_Give it a more audio play feel,_ Poe had said. _Make it feel more authentic._

She’d had her plane tickets bought before he’d been done pitching, if she’s being honest. 

It’s just that even before she worked with him, she’d admired him. He gives a _real_ feel and a _care_ to his roles that really sucks you into the story, really makes you _believe_ in it. He’s talented, to say the very least, and if his voice makes her squirm a little, well, that’s just a bonus. 

She watches Ben read the rest of his part, dwindling down to the close of the chapter in Logan’s POV as Poe’s voice drifts through the PA system to announce that they can take a break. 

These are the moments she’d been most excited for—getting a chance to know him when they weren’t recording. She wanted to know the man behind the voice, and this would be the perfect opportunity to do that. There’s so much downtime in between takes; it really would be _perfect,_ except…

“Great job,” she offers with a smile as Ben pulls off his bulky headphones. 

Ben flicks his eyes in her direction, pursing his lips in a tight line before he gives her an even tighter nod of his head. He pushes away from the table a little quicker than necessary, stalking out of the room without so much as a word in reply. 

Yes, it would be perfect, except… Ben Solo seems to _intensely_ dislike her.

* * *

She noticed on the day they met. 

She’d been a nervous wreck, stomach full of butterflies after he’d sent over the daunting NDA and _no photography_ contract days before. His fierce protection of his identity from fans made him that much more intimidating, and she hadn’t known what to expect when she walked into the little conference room of the studio.

She had been _completely_ unprepared for Ben’s towering figure and his giant hands and his wide chest and everything else that made her instantly and undeniably attracted to him. He gave her nothing while Poe introduced them, nothing that would lead her to believe he had any reaction to her whatsoever—his features tense and his eyes expressionless.

Even his _hello, nice to meet you_ felt forced.

Not even a _smile._

It hasn’t gotten that much better really; no matter how much Rey tries to be friendly with him, Ben seems to have decided there was something off-putting about her on that first day, and she doesn’t foresee him changing his mind for the few days they still have to work closely together. 

The first day had been absolutely awful—at least for Rey. She thinks of herself as determined, and she’d pressed for conversation at every water break, every lull between setups, at lunch—realizing very quickly that Ben Solo just _did not_ want to talk to her. 

During sessions he is completely professional, so immersed in the role that she can almost _forget_ that he, for whatever reason, has no desire to be sitting here with her. It’s only after that the reality of his actual feelings come crashing down, obvious in his mannerisms and his constant grumbling about anything and everything that comes along. 

Just like right now.

“So the next chapter is Melanie’s point of view,” Poe is saying, going over his notes. “No Logan dialogue.”

“So, I don’t have to be there, right?”

Rey has to will herself not to look at Ben as he asks this, trying to ignore the little pang of disappointment at his thinly veiled attempt to not be around her. 

“I’d still like you there,” Poe tells him. “Logan drops right into the scene where Melanie’s POV ends, and I want you to have a natural reaction.”

“I’ve read the book,” Ben argues. “I’ll have a natural reaction either way.”

“Still.” Poe flips another page over his clipboard, oblivious to Ben’s obvious discomfort. “Just to be safe.”

Rey doesn’t miss the way Ben inhales sharply only to let it out in a rush, nor does she miss the way he runs his fingers through his hair to dishevel it, something she’s noticing he does when he’s frustrated. 

And Ben seems to be frustrated a lot, for whatever reason. 

She wonders if it is because she’s still new to the business. Does he not think she’s _worthy_ of his time just because she’s so new? She wants to think that he isn’t like that, but part of her wonders if that is only the idealistic image of him she’s built up in her mind that leads her to believe that. 

“I still don’t even see why this is necessary,” Ben grumbles.

“A lot of studios are giving it a try,” Poe tells him. “We think it makes the reactions more natural. Easier to play off one another.”

“It’s more expensive, and completely unnecessary,” Ben huffs. “Plus, the equipment here is mediocre. My studio at home is leaps and bounds above this one.”

Rey feels irritation prickling under her skin at his vehement displeasure. “Well,” she starts. “As someone who has to _rent_ studio space—I think this one is just fine.”

She catches his gaze to hold it, that same unreadable expression he saves for her coloring his face, pursing his lips for the briefest of moments before tearing his eyes away to look elsewhere. 

“Fine.”

“Plus, it’s fun,” Poe offers. “Don’t you think?”

She doesn’t think Poe catches Ben’s muttered: _hardly_ —but she certainly does.

She thinks it’s becoming a real problem, this problem Ben has with her.

* * *

> _Her mind is instantly assaulted with images from their last encounter—of his lips on her skin and his hands on her breasts and his cock as it filled her in a way that still makes her shiver from memory alone. He can’t possibly be here. There’s absolutely no reason for it. No reason for him to be here, in this room, in this meeting. Not for ML Grant, an author he can’t possibly know, that no one’s ever seen, someone that—_

She can’t help but look up at him between paragraphs, just a casual flick of her gaze to see how she’s doing, and she’s surprised to find Ben staring at her intently. His fingers grip the edge of the table with so much force that his knuckles are white, and for a moment it throws her off, because there is something in his expression that seems a little less than disdainful, which is what she’s become accustomed to. 

She takes a breath of pause as she tries to collect her thoughts, his mask sliding back into place between blinks, and she quickly averts her eyes to the page in front of her to read the last section of Melanie’s POV chapter. 

She doesn’t look at him for the rest of the section, some strange fluttering in her chest as that look, that _brief_ look—stamps itself onto the forefront of her thoughts.

Poe announces a lunch break when she finishes, and Ben is up and out of the room just as quickly as always—leaving Rey chewing on the inside of her lip as she ponders that look, wondering what it might mean.

Wondering if it even means anything at all.

* * *

She finds him in the little break room at the end of the hall, the microwave humming in front of him on the counter as he heats something up. She feels a bit of glee course through her when she realizes he’s trapped by his own devices—breezily strolling into the room and circling around him to find herself at the refrigerator. She opens it without looking at him, bending as she searches for her own lunch.

“So,” she says casually. “It sure is different doing these things live, huh?”

She continues not to look at him, not affording him the option of giving her his usual curt nod, and it is seconds later that she hears him clear his throat before a tight: “Yeah. Different.”

“It _is_ sort of fun though,” she keeps going, pulling her lunch from the fridge. 

“If you say so,” he hmphs.

_God, what a fucking grump._

“But isn’t it neat to put a voice to the face?” She settles in a chair at the little table, pulling out her salad as she tears open the dressing packet with her teeth. “It was always a little weird listening back to the finished books and hearing your voice with no face to it.”

He turns slightly, barely even enough to be called looking at her, but she can see the way his eyes peek over at her. “You listen back?”

“Well, yeah,” she laughs. “Is that weird?

“I hope not,” he says evenly, and then after a beat of silence: “I listen too.”

She isn’t sure why that thought makes heat flush down her neck. She thinks it’s most likely to do with the sudden image of him in a dark room somewhere, eyes closed as he listens to their voices follow after one another, intertwining in scenes filled with fictional characters pleasuring one another.

She shifts a little in her seat, hoping he doesn’t notice. “You do?”

“I do.” He nods, and then his brow furrows a fraction as he adds: “To make notes for improvement, you know. Didn’t picture you doing the same thing.”

She doesn’t tell him that she listens back to hear _his_ voice, doesn’t mention that she does the bulk of her listening late at night in her bed; she assumes based on his general reception of her that he wouldn’t be pleased to hear this. 

“Well, I just listen for fun.” She shrugs. “But I do.”

She wonders what he thinks about when _he’s_ listening to the two of them, a thought that she thinks will plague her long after this conversation. 

She realizes this is the longest conversation they’ve had, and she finds herself desperate to keep it going. 

“So what do you—”

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The microwave sounding seems to jolt him out of the somewhat easy air they’d settled into, tearing his attention away from her to focus on the still-beeping appliance as he pops the door open. He takes out his food in a bit of a hurry, and there’s a moment where she almost thinks he’ll sit and eat with her, but she’s left disappointed when he gives her one of his famous curt nods and carries his bowl from the room.

Rey stabs her salad to take a vicious bite, chewing with more force than necessary as her mind circles around the ever-frustrating enigma that is Ben Solo. At least they have a few more days left, she thinks. 

Although at this point… she’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

* * *

Rey is determined to get through the rest of the day without any hang ups, or any more reason for Ben to shy away from her. A fine idea, one that she will have no problem executing, she thinks—until Poe announces they’ll be starting another scene of a more… lascivious nature. 

They’ve only had the one so far, one that she didn’t have many lines for—but this one is different. This one has… a lot more back and forth. 

Ben seats himself at the other side of the table as he puts on his headphones, not sparing her a glance as he settles in. Rey tries to exude the same energy, borrowing a bit of his indifferent air, and it’s working, it really is—until Ben starts to read.

To her credit, she keeps it together, mostly. She bites her cheek when things get a little racier, she takes steadying breath when Ben gets more into it. 

It’s only when the male lead, Logan, gets a little more… lost in it, that she really starts to have a hard time. 

> _“You feel that?” Her back arches as he works her steadily, that hot pressure already beginning to build deep inside as he fills her again and again and again. “Feel how you clench around me?” He slows his pace, dipping into her a little slower. “Nothing feels better than that.” His lips brush along her spine, his fingers circling faster against her clit as he slams back inside her. “Nothing feels better than you.”_

It’s the second time today she’s nearly lost her train of thought, so wrapped up in Ben’s part that she’s nearly forgotten she has a line to give back to him. She swallows past the lump in her throat as she manages a breathy utterance of the male lead’s name—peeking back to meet Ben’s gaze as he stares back at her heavily. 

She thinks she must be imagining it, the way his chest seems to rise and fall a little faster, and his eyes only dip down to the page in front of him briefly before he starts to read again. 

“ _Come, Mel.”_

She can’t tell if she’s imagining the way Ben’s voice seems a little tighter. He takes a deep breath before his lips part, and she _knows_ she doesn’t imagine the way his eyes flick up to hers. 

“ _Come on my cock. I want to feel it.”_

She feels her heart beating a little faster in her chest, and Ben is still _looking_ at her. Suddenly it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room, feels like he's speaking not as his character, but directly to _her._

_“I need to,”_ Ben grinds out, not even reading from the script. 

Rey presses her thighs together, unable to help the way she feels a throbbing there—breathing a little harder as she stares back at Ben. His mouth is still parted, and his eyes seem darker, and _God_ , he just said he wanted to feel her come on his _cock._ Never mind that it was a line, never mind that it’s what he _had_ to say—Rey feels it deep down in her belly and lower like it was for _her._

She’s opening her mouth to say something, what she has no idea, right there on the edge of _something,_ and she—

_Tap. Tap._

Her head whips around to the glass that separates them from the sound room, her blood rushing in her ears as she takes in Poe’s impatient expression. 

_Fuck._

Her line. Her _line._

 _That’s_ why Ben is looking at her so intently; he wants her to get on with her _lines._

She swallows down the rising embarrassment in her throat, sucking in an unsteady breath as she tries to smooth her features into something impassive. Her heart still thuds away in her chest, and the back of her neck feels too hot, and she’s still _wholly_ turned on in a way that is _beyond_ inappropriate—but somehow she manages to give her attention back to the page in front of her and power through the end of the scene. 

She doesn’t look at Ben for the rest of the session, and this time, when it’s over— _she_ is the one who is quick to escape into another room. 

It takes the entirety of her break to collect herself, to remind herself that this is a _job_ and that Ben Solo has _no interest in her_ —suddenly less optimistic about the time they have left to work together. The scenes will only get heavier from here, as they get further in the book, and Rey…

Rey has no idea how she’ll survive it.

* * *

Rey doesn’t look at Ben for the rest of the day, honestly too terrified to do so. She can’t escape the way his voice and his words make her feel—but when she isn’t looking at him, she can almost pretend that it doesn’t affect her. That she isn’t horribly turned on by what he’s saying. 

She’s as grateful as humanly possible when it comes time for the day’s end, breathing a sigh of relief when they start to shut down for the day. She even spares a glance in Ben’s direction, watching from the corner of her eye as he downs the rest of his water bottle. 

She bites at her bottom lip as the urge to say something to him bubbles up inside, toying with the idea of it for several seconds as she shrugs into her coat. 

“So new characters tomorrow,” she tries casually. “It’ll be fun to meet Rose and Hux. Have you worked with them before?”

“A few times,” he mutters, crushing the plastic bottle and tossing it in the trash. “Never met them.”

“It’ll be weird reading with someone else,” she offers with a little laugh. “I’ve sort of gotten used to it being just us.”

Ben’s nostrils flare ever so slightly, and he doesn’t look at her as he mutters, “A change of pace would be great.”

Rey frowns. It’s not the words that he says that are rude, she thinks, but the way he _says_ them. Low, under his breath, almost like he didn’t even want her to hear. 

She feels her skin prickle with irritation. “Do you have a problem with me?”

His eyebrows raise, his hand stilling in its mission to scoop up his notes. “What?”

“A problem,” she repeats. “With me.”

He looks somewhat confused, mouth parting in surprise as if her question is completely left field and not brought about by the completely standoffish behavior he’s exhibited for the last three days. 

“I…” His brow furrows as if he has to think about it. “No?”

“Then why do you keep acting like this?” 

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“You’re acting like you can’t stand to be around me,” she accuses. “You have since the moment we met.”

He presses his lips together, in guilt, she supposes. “No. I haven’t.”

She takes a step towards him, noticing the way he takes an _immediate_ step back, always wanting to put distance between them. “Is it something I said? Something I did?”

“You didn’t do anything, Rey,” he says tightly. “Anything.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always repulsed by the idea of even being in the same room with me?” 

She can’t be sure what the clenching of his jaw is attributed to, isn’t sure what on earth _he_ might have to be indignant about—and it takes him several moments to respond, both of them breathing a little harder than they should be. 

“I’m not,” he says evenly, his tone low and nearly at the same timbre that makes her shiver during their readings. “Repulsed.”

“Well, you sure as hell act like it,” she snorts.

Ben takes a deep breath, looking almost contrite for the first time since she met him. 

“Listen, Rey, I—”

“Alright, guys,” Poe interrupts at the most inopportune moment, stepping out of the sound booth to shut the door behind him. “I’m headed out.” He seems to be oblivious to any of the tension in the air, glancing between them for only a moment before his gaze settles on Ben. “You still hanging back?”

Ben breathes in deep through his nostrils, tearing his eyes away from Rey. “Yes. Just want to check a section in that fourth chapter. It felt like I was off.”

Poe shakes his head, laughing. “If we hadn’t been friends for years, I’d fire you just so you’d take a damn break.” He turns his attention to Rey. “Want to grab a drink? There’s a good little place nearby. I’m meeting Rose and Hux there. If you want to hang out for a bit.”

It takes her a moment to avert her gaze— _more_ than curious as to what Ben was about to say, but recognizing by his now-stern look that the moment has passed. She pastes on a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, zipping up her coat. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

She flicks her eyes in Ben’s direction once more as Poe moves past her towards the door, sighing a little. 

“Goodnight, Ben.”

He gives her a nod, but it’s a little less than curt this time as he murmurs back, “Goodnight, Rey.”

She tells herself that maybe tomorrow Ben will be up for having this conversation. 

_Yeah,_ she thinks. _Right._

* * *

In hindsight, it seems pretty on par for her week, forgetting her cellphone at the studio. 

She’s happy that she noticed at least while she was still with Poe, who was too tipsy really to do anything more than lend her a key, and yes, she’s cursing herself for being a typical millennial that never bought an _actual_ alarm clock—but she’s thankful at least that the studio is on her way back to the hotel.

The main entry is dark when she steps inside, closing the front door behind her and locking it so that no one will wander in while she’s looking. (Yes, she knows she’s a bit paranoid, but still.) She doesn’t bother flicking on any of the lights as she goes—following the soft glow from the cracked door of the reading room in hopes that’s where she left it. 

She’s walking fairly fast, tired from the large margarita she had and mostly just ready to fall into her hotel bed—so she almost misses it, the sound of voices beyond the door. She stills just beyond the mostly-closed wood. She can’t place them at first, just a man and a woman talking, but there’s something familiar about it. Something just at the edge of her memory. Something that’s—

_Shit._

It’s her. Her and Ben. It’s _them._

She feels her cheeks heat as she recognizes one of the more explicit scenes they read today, played loudly enough that she can make it out on the other side of the door. 

It hits her then that Ben had mentioned staying behind to go over his parts, and this would be fine, she thinks—if not for the fact that it is predominantly _her_ voice sounding in the room. It’s her character’s POV chapter, and one of the love scenes where she had a considerable amount of erotic dialogue, more than she’s read so far, to be exact. 

Why would he be listening to her parts, if he’s worried about his own performance? Why would he—no.

She feels herself flush for a different reason now, because is he really in there picking apart _her_ parts? Her vague suspicions that he finds her lacking somehow feel more valid now, and she feels anger bubbling in her chest, because _what the fuck._

She knows she got a little distracted today (something that was _his_ fault, if you think about it), but she did a fine job, she thinks. No blatant mistakes or overly awkward pauses—she did _perfectly fine._

She wrestles with what to do as her voice continues to get breathier, mixed with sharp gasps and deep sighs in all the right places, and the longer she stands there listening, the angrier she gets. She is _definitely_ going to give him a piece of her mind. 

She reaches for the handle with that in mind, turning it quickly in the hopes to face him head on, fully riled at this point and not even sure what she will _say._ The door swings open, the soft light spilling into the hall, and she’s going to let him have it, she’s going to—

It takes her several seconds to process what she’s walked into.

Her mouth falls open, and her eyes go wide, and she feels her face and her neck and just about _everywhere else_ flushing with heat—because Ben Solo is not going over her parts. He is not picking apart her work in some inane display of anal retentive jackassery. Ben Solo is doing… something altogether different. Something that Rey has to mentally piece together in a broken train of thought. 

Ben Solo is sprawled out in one of the office chairs.

Ben Solo is a disheveled mess.

Ben Solo has his pants shoved down his thighs.

Ben Solo is touching himself.

Ben Solo might have the biggest dick she’s ever seen, and he’s _touching_ himself. _Here._ With _her_ voice playing, and practically _nothing_ else.

Rey thinks to herself that it’s possible that Ben Solo doesn’t hate her as much as she thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally could have made this a one shot but I’m a cliffhanger hoe 🥰


	2. Do You Hear What I Hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO THIS IS JUST NONSENSE PORN IM SORRY
> 
> also im SO sorry I haven't caught up on comments it has been so busy irl and has come down to writing or answering comments a lot for the last week or so 😭 but I read them and I love them and sometimes they are the only things getting me through the day! I love and appreciate all of you so much ❤️  
>   
> I swear I owe [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) my life for these amazing boards 😭❤️

Ben’s heart feels like it’s lodged somewhere in his throat.

He’s trying to catch his breath, but his hand is still wrapped around his cock. Frozen with shock, he thinks. Rey is staring at him, or rather, not at _him_ —but his lap. Her eyes are fixed on his throbbing cock that juts above his fist, and with her eyes on him like they are… It’s making it incredibly difficult to remedy the situation. 

He didn’t plan for this, but does anyone _really_ plan to get turned on listening to their co-worker’s voice and start abusing themselves?

It’s been hell. These past few days. 

He knew it would be; he knew it from the moment Poe called to pitch the idea. He’d wanted to say no, he _had_ —but the temptation had been too great. Meeting her, actually _seeing_ her after having indulged in the softness of her voice for so long had been something that ultimately he’d been just stupid enough to pounce on. 

Because he has. Indulged. 

God, he has really _indulged._

There’s a quality to her voice, a way that her lips (because he knows what that looks like now, and _fuck_ , what it does to him) wrap around words—like each one drips off her tongue. Ben has spent many nights with her voice in his ears, and more of those than he cares to admit have gone just like this. 

It’s almost like he’s conditioned now, to get hard at the sound of her voice. 

It’s made this time working with her nearly _unbearable._

He’s spent most of it trying not to get hard under the table, the other half trying to conclude his time earlier than intended so that he can avoid making an absolute fool of himself—resulting in making an absolute _ass_ of himself instead. 

And now he’s here. 

And _she’s_ here. 

And she’s still _looking at him._

“I can—” For as many words as he’s recorded, they seem to be failing him now. “I can explain.”

Rey’s eyes flick back up to his. “Can you?”

“Yeah, I—” He has the good sense to release his cock, scrambling to tuck himself back into his underwear. Not that it does much good, with how it’s tented. “I—”

“Because I am… _very_ confused, Ben,” she says a little breathlessly, that same quality in her voice that got him in this mess to begin with. Her eyes dart to Poe’s laptop on the table that is still emitting her voice as it whispers soft words of a very _sensual_ nature. “I could have sworn you hated me.”

“I don’t,” he chokes out. 

Her gaze dips back down to his pitched underwear and then back again to the laptop. “Clearly.”

“ _lFuck.”_ He scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to—This wasn’t— _fuck._ ”

She quietly closes the door behind her, but the soft _click_ of the latch grabs his attention. 

“When you said you listen back,” she starts carefully, quietly, _dangerously._ “Is this what you meant?”

All the air seems to leave his lungs. His mouth parts in surprise, because there’s something in her eyes that is hot like anger, but it isn’t, he thinks. He thinks it might be something else. He watches a flash of pink swipe across her lower lip, and his cock throbs needily as her voice through the speakers breathes pretty praises about someone else’s. 

“I…” He swallows thickly. “Maybe.”

She takes a step, and Ben’s fingers find his rumpled jeans to grip the denim there. Her teeth tug at the softness of her lower lip, something she does when she’s nervous, he’s noticed, and Ben is wrought with an urge to do that himself. Something that has been plaguing him for days. 

“And what do you think”—she takes another step, and Ben’s belly feels hot and fluttery all at once— “I was doing? When I told you I did the same thing.”

Ben blinks up at her, because she is _above_ him now—having closed the distance between them as she stares down at him with an expression that makes his cock ache. 

_Surely she isn’t—surely he can’t be so fucking lucky to—_

That heat in her eyes makes him a little bold. Bolder than he has any right to be, probably, but his cock actually _aches_ , and she’s _right_ _there_ , and she is still fucking _looking_ at him, and he’s never been this _hard_ before. 

His fingers are slow, as they drag over his thighs to climb higher, brushing over the tented front of his underwear to feel his cock twitch, never taking his eyes off hers. 

“I don’t know,” he says, his voice a little rougher now. “But I know what _I_ was doing.”

Her throat bobs with a swallow. “What were you doing?”

“I was touching myself. Just like this.” He gives his clothed cock a heavy squeeze. “While I listened to you.”

Her nostrils flare a little. “You were?”

“Constantly,” he hisses, letting his thumb slide over the damp spot at the head. “I couldn’t get enough of your voice. I had no idea what you looked like, but the way you _sounded_.” His palm makes a slow stroke down the length of him. “It was enough for me to imagine.”

“And what did you”—her eyes never leave his hand that is moving slowly over his cock now—“imagine?”

“Anything,” he breathes. “ _Everything._ ” He watches her fingers clench and unclench at her sides. “Sometimes I imagined your mouth. Stretched around me. There was never a face to put it to, but I imagined the softest mouth.” His eyes find the plush curve of her lips. “I was right about that, at least.”

But she’s still watching his hand. “What else?”

“I imagined the sounds I was hearing, not for this fictional character, but for _me._ I imagined making you make those sounds.”

He can hear them now, still playing from the file—breathy sighs and soft cries of _harder_ and _more_ and Ben wants to give her _just that._

“So did I,” she half-whispers. Her eyes finally flick up to his, dark and _wild._ “I imagined you touching me.”

He has to squeeze the base of his cock just to keep from embarrassing himself. “You did?”

“And that’s not all,” she breathes, taking him by surprise when she sinks to her knees between his legs. She looks up at him, his heart hammering in his chest and all the blood in his body rushing to his heated cock that begs for something, _anything._ “I thought about touching you too.”

Ben’s having a hard time breathing now. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Her fingertips brush against the bunched denim on either side of his thigh, and every muscle in Ben’s body tenses. “Can I take all this as permission?”

“Permission?” He can barely choke out the word. “Permission to—”

“Touch you,” she clarifies.

He makes a sound that is something like a laugh, but strangled and hoarse. “You can do anything. _Anything_ you want to me.”

Her lips curl in a grin that threatens to ruin him, but it’s _nothing_ compared to what her little fingers sliding over the cotton of his boxer-briefs do. His cock twitches in anticipation, her thumb _just_ grazing the edge as her fingers climb higher to tease at the elastic band. 

“I thought about what you looked like,” she murmurs, wetting her lower lip briefly with her tongue. “Then I met you, and you looked like _that_.” 

“Like... that?”

Her eyes find his as she curls her fingers under the elastic. “Everything about you was better than I imagined. God, you’re so _big._ ” She inches away the fabric of his underwear, never taking her eyes off his. “It made me wonder about the rest of you.” Ben feels himself holding his breath as she tugs down his underwear and his cock springs free. “That was better than I imagined too.”

“Rey,” he grinds out. “Is this really—do you really want to—”

His words die off when her fingers wrap around him tentatively, her thumb stroking up and down the front of his shaft before lingering just under the flared lip of his glans to tease there. She scoots closer, her little body settled completely between his legs as she presses up on her knees. Her mouth is so close now, so close that he can feel the warmth of her breath, and Ben is afraid he might come just from this.

She gives him a slow stroke that makes his eyes roll back. “Did you really think about my mouth?”

“All the time,” he bites out. “Especially after we met. Everytime we were reading I— _fuck._ It was hard not to—the things I _thought_ about—”

Her smile is back, soft and coy. “Here’s hoping that I can live up to the expectation.” 

He wants to tell her that of course, _of course_ she can—but he sort of forgets how to speak when she leans in to let her tongue flatten against the head of his cock. He makes an embarrassing sound, one he doesn’t think he’s ever made, and he has to grip the arms of the chair just to keep himself from flying out of it. 

He can feel the tip of her tongue tracing just under his glans, his lashes fluttering and his teeth gnashing together as she turns her head to slide down the length of him. Her lips close to mouth at his shaft, leaving wet kisses there paired with little kitten licks that threaten to drive him insane. 

But it’s when she slides her tongue upwards, when she presses a soft kiss to the wet head of him, when her lips open and close to take him into her mouth—it’s _then_ that Ben absolutely loses it. 

He groans low and long, unable to help the way his fingers reach to slide over her temples and into her hair. Rey hums encouragement, bobbing down his length to take as much as she’s able, and Ben is done in by the realization that _she can’t fit all of him_. She works what she can’t take in her mouth with her hands, gripping him at the base to give him short strokes as her fist meets her mouth and the head of his cock slides against the velvet wet of her throat. He imagines coming there, imagines spilling everything he has down her throat as he feels her swallow it down—and he realizes just how in danger of that she is. 

He doesn’t know her middle name, but she’s about to know what his cum tastes like, if she keeps going like this.

He can hear her voice still bleeding through the speakers of the laptop, asking for more, _begging_ for it—and _fuck_ , how he wants to give it to her.

“Rey,” he huffs, focusing on the silky quality of her hair as it slides between his fingers. “Rey, if you keep—”

But she only pushes deeper. Only takes _more._

It isn’t fair, he thinks, that he’s so _close._ If he could go back and _not_ touch himself, if he could have known that she would be here like this—red lips stretched around his cock and eyes somehow bright and dark and looking up at him like she _likes_ this—he would have held off. He would have ensured that he would have been able to enjoy this for as _long as he possibly could._

She hollows her cheeks, making an obscene sound with her mouth as she actively _sucks_ his cock—and Ben’s head falls back against the chair, unable to really formulate a thought outside of _holyfuckingshit._

“Rey,” he rasps, trying his best to be chivalrous and gently urge her off him, but she isn’t having it. “ _Rey.”_

It isn’t much of a surprise to him, when he feels that twitching of his cock and that hot pressure flooding from base to tip, and if it surprises _her_ —she doesn’t let it show. Her tongue cradles under his shaft, holding him like he’s precious, taking every drop he gives her as her fist makes slow strokes to finish him off. 

Even after, she licks at the sensitive flesh of his glans, cleaning away any remnants as she hums softly. Ben watches this happen like something from a dream—because it fucking _is,_ he can’t even begin to put a number to how many times he’s dreamed just this—and he’s having a hard time believing even now that she’s _actually_ touching him like this. 

Her lips are so _soft_ against his cock, and her words vibrate against his skin in a way that makes him shiver. “So,” she hums. “How does it compare?”

“How does it...” He lets out a choked laugh. “I’ll tell you when I remember what words are.”

She grins against him, still stroking her thumb up and down the vein on the underside of his cock even as he begins to soften a little in her hands. “It’s too bad,” she murmurs. “I thought about a lot more than this.”

He feels his nostrils flare, and he has his hands wound under her arms to hoist her up against him in the span of a second. Her knees settle on either side of his hips, and his hands find their way under her jaw as his fingers curl around her nape. 

“Did you think I was done with you?” His eyes dip to her mouth. “I thought about a lot more than this too.”

She closes her eyes when he leans in to kiss her, but Ben doesn’t. He peeks out from under his lashes to take in her expression, all the while cataloguing the sweet softness of her mouth that is somehow far better than anything he could have ever imagined. She makes a sound somewhere in her throat when he slides his tongue across her lower lip, one he’s heard before in echo—an acted version on tape that is _nothing_ compared to the real thing. 

He can taste himself on her tongue, and it’s heady, it’s enough to drive him wild—and his moan blends with the echo of the one on tape as he pulls her closer. He nips at her lip as his hands slide under her ass, and he squeezes there as a soft whimper escapes her.

“Do you know what else I thought about?”

Her lashes flutter open. “What?”

“Those sounds you make,” he tells her, nodding his head towards the laptop to accentuate which ones. “I wondered if you‘d make the same ones for me.”

She grins coyly. “Are you asking me if you can return the favor?”

“No,” he says pointedly. “I’m telling you to get up on that table.”

He hears her breath catch a little, _feels_ the way her limbs tremble, and he’s already moving before she can oblige. He lifts her in one fell swoop—setting her on the table before he tucks himself back into his boxer briefs. He focuses on her leggins next, feeling every curve of her as he slides his hands over them and reaches the waistband to curl his fingers underneath it, grappling her underwear right along with it. 

“The way I’ve thought about getting my mouth on you,” he murmurs, peeling the stretchy fabric down and down until his knuckles brush bare thigh. “There’s a sound you make.” He can feel her breath against his cheek as his lips brush over her jaw. “When you’re emulating being tasted.” He licks at her pulse point, feeling the thrumming under his tongue. “I wonder if you’ll make that same sound for me?”

“You’ll just have to see,” she answers breathily. “Won’t you.”

He smiles against her throat, working everything down her legs until she can kick it away. He’s thought about her cunt more times than he can count—and his fingers dance along the inside of her thigh teasingly as the warmth between her legs radiates against his hand. 

“I want that sound, Rey,” he murmurs, lips moving down her throat to tease at her collar.

She arches her neck just as his fingers slide between her folds. “Then I guess you’d better give me a good reason.”

His nose brushes back and forth across her collar, dipping his tongue under the gapped fabric to press against the hollow between her breasts. “Lean back for me, and I will.”

He watches as she reclines back to rest on her elbows, biting at her lower lip as he turns down his face to watch his hand moving between her legs. She’s soft and pink and _so wet_ —and Ben is nearly vibrating with a need to have his mouth here, to feel that velvet heat against his tongue. 

He can still hear her through the speakers of the laptop—breathy sighs and whispered words, and he reaches over her with a deliberate tap of a button, giving her a heated look as the sounds die. “I want the real thing.”

Her chest rises and falls heavily as she watches him slide up her shirt to bare more of her belly, too impatient to take it all the way off as he moves down her body. His lips graze just over her navel, his tongue dipping inside as her stomach clenches, and he pushes one finger inside of her to feel that same sensation as she constricts around him. He licks at the hollow near her hip bone, curling his finger to pet the softness of her inner wall as he kisses down and down until he’s kneeling between her legs.

He can see everything like this—the slick pink of her cunt that is spread open and _begging_ for him to taste her, and he feels his hand shaking a little against her thigh as he holds her open. His thumb slides over the little nub of her clit, rolling it a little as it gives under his touch. He lets his thumb draw back the hood, exposing more of her to his eyes and his hands and his _mouth_ especially—leaning in and flicking his eyes up as he licks at the swollen bud. Her breath catches as he flattens his tongue there, holding it as he swirls around it in a slow stroke before pulling it between his lips. He hooks his finger inside her to stroke against that sensitive spot that makes her clench, all the while teasing her clit with his lips and tongue.

She makes a sound, not the one he wants, but _something_ —like a trapped whimper that’s lodged in her throat. He turns his head back and forth to let his tongue swipe over the most sensitive part of her. He slips out his finger only to add another, hearing her gasp at the fullness, but it is _still_ not what he’s looking for. 

He sucks at her clit harder, he pushes his fingers _deeper_ —never ceasing his efforts as he hears her breath grow short and feels her body tense above and around him. He can feel how close she is, can taste it on his tongue, and he is voracious in his efforts, he wants to feel it, to _hear_ it.

“ _Yes_ ,” she gasps when he twists his fingers inside her. “ _Right there.”_

_Now he’s getting somewhere._

He closes his eyes as he sucks her deeper into his mouth, hearing her low moan in the air of the soundproofed room, trapped with nowhere to go.

_That’s more like it._

It’s the sound he wanted, but amplified, _real_ —made even better because she isn’t acting, she isn’t offering it for show, it’s for _him._ He slips out his fingers to add a third, filling her until there’s nearly no room left, and the way her back arches, the _sound_ she makes—it’s somehow better than what he wanted, it’s so much _more._

He doesn’t relent, sliding his fingers in and out of her with steady strokes, curling them inside to push her over the edge, feeling the way she grows tighter, _wetter_ —her clit pulsing against his tongue as her thighs shake, and her fingers wind into his hair to tug, and he doesn’t mind because it’s _her._

“Oh fuck, _right there,_ just like that, _please—”_

It’s beautiful, the way she comes apart; it’s loud and visceral and _real_ , it’s better than anything he’s ever heard from her on a recording. He wants to put _this_ in his ears on repeat every night, or better yet—he just wants to make her fall apart like this as often as he’s able in _real time._

He doesn’t care that he’s nearly out of breath after, still licking through her folds at a lazy pace, still pressing his fingers into the dreamy softness of her inside as he imagines what it will feel like to slide his cock there. What it will feel like to have her come apart all over again while he’s buried inside. He’s hard all over again, cock throbbing against his underwear.

His lips are wet with her when he finally offers her a reprieve, kissing over her pubic bone and up her belly as it heaves with the force of her breath. His fingers tug at her shirt as he moves higher, pulling it up and up as she lazily raises her arms to allow him to pull it over her head, falling to her back to look up at him with hooded eyes. He nearly chokes on his tongue to find nothing underneath—only the soft, mouth-watering morsels that are her tits, all pretty swells and pink nipples.

She’s smiling up at him with a sated little grin, reaching to tug at his shirt in turn. “Did you get what you were after?”

“I did,” he rumbles. “But I think I can get a little more.”

“You think so?” She pulls his shirt up over his abdomen, tugging as high as she’s able before the way she’s lying over the table prevents her from getting anymore headway. “Take this off.”

He reaches with both hands to take over, pulling his shirt over his head to toss it away. He likes the way she looks at him, _loves_ the way she touches him like she can’t help it, biting her lip softly as her fingers move over his abdomen and his ribs and his chest. Everywhere she can reach, really. It’s only when her hand dips lower to tease at his clothed cock that he sucks in a breath, tilting into her hand on instinct as her fingers drag down the length of him.

“Did you think about this too?” Her thumb presses against the slit at his cockhead, forcing him to expel all the air in his lungs in a hissed rush. “Did you think about fucking me?”

Her finger hooks into the band to pull it away, the head of his cock sliding out of the fabric. “I have thought about”—he reaches to ruck his jeans and his underwear further down his thighs—“fucking you”—he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, tilting his hips to to let the head glide through her folds—“in every _single_ way possible.”

She’s watching the way he teases at her clit with his cockhead, her teeth still pressing a soft imprint at her lip until her mouth parts in a quiet gasp. He leans over her to slant his mouth across hers, capturing the sound as he continues to slide his cock through the wet crease of her. 

There are whispered words of _birth control_ and frantic urging of _yes, clean_ —and then there is nothing but the way he’s holding his breath as he pushes inside of her. Nothing but the wet stretch and the absolute _dream_ of her cunt as it takes every inch of him. His mouth is slack against her cheek as he huffs out a breath, closing his lips in aimless kisses as he pushes and _pushes_ until every inch is nestled inside and his sac nestles against the warmth of her cunt.

For a moment he doesn’t move, too wrapped up in the sensation of being wrapped up in _her_ —forgetting his own _name_ for a minute before her soft mouth at his jaw brings him back down to earth. 

He takes a deep breath as he slides out, feeling her insides clinging as if unwilling to let him go. If he looks down he can see the way he pushes back inside, can see the way she fits snugly around his cock to pull him back in. He turns up his face to press his mouth to hers as he does it again, pulling out a little faster, pushing into her a little harder. 

Her nails claw at his shoulders, but he doesn’t mind the sting. He focuses on the sensations, overwhelmed by the heat of her mouth and her cunt and just _her._

“Any other— _ah.”_ Her breath catches with a particularly hard thrust. “Any other sounds you’re after?”

Ben’s lips curl even as he huffs out a labored breath. “Sweetheart.” He pulls out only to slam inside, her body jolting up the table a fraction, but Ben is there, hands on her hips and pulling her right back to him to meet his cock, and the way she _gasps_ . “You’re already fucking _making_ them.”

He rolls his hips into her at a steady pace now, the slap of skin between them making him dizzy with the headiness of it. He’s holding her still on the table to prevent her from sliding up the table, having to reach out and slam the laptop closed to push it out of her way, hardly even worried about it falling off the table or breaking. He fleetingly thinks he would gladly buy Poe another. Rey’s legs wrap tightly around his waist, her strangled sounds matching his own, and his lips wander to her jaw and her throat and even lower until his tongue slides over one pink little nipple to suck it into his mouth. 

Her fingers tug at his hair, and her cunt tugs at his cock, and her sounds fill his ears, and they’re better, so much _better_ than anything he’s heard or imagined. He licks at the swell of her breast messily, closing her eyes before he swirls his tongue around her nipple to suck, holding her close as he fills her again and again and _again_. 

And he’s happy to have come once already, ecstatic to be able to draw this out—part of him wanting to _live_ in her cunt. He can feel the way she’s getting a little tighter, a little _wetter_ , and he thinks maybe she’s close, is already desperate to feel the way she comes on his cock.

His hand snakes down her belly, fingers skimming over her navel and lower until he can press two between the lips of her cunt to roll against the swollen bundle of nerves there. She makes a soft whimper in her throat, a sound he’s _never_ heard on tape before, and speeds up his pace; he swipes at her clit with a frantic energy as he fucks into her with all he has. 

She’s trying to arch her back, unable to do so with the way he covers her, but he can feel her thighs tensing around him as if trying to close them, as if she’s as overwhelmed by the sensations as he is. 

But Ben just keeps touching, keeps _tasting_ —even when he feels her start to tremble inside. Even when she moans a pretty sound and tugs at his hair so hard it’s nearly painful. He holds still deep inside her as she comes apart, not even really needing to thrust anymore, letting the way her cunt spasms around him pull him into a similar state. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever made the sound he makes either, when he starts to come inside, but it reverberates against her skin as his hands grip her tight and his cock pulses deep inside. He’s so out of breath it’s nearly uncomfortable, and he knows he’s so heavy above her that she must be in a similar state, but still it takes him several moments to pull away from her. 

His fingers are wet with her cum and her skin is wet from his tongue, but she’s a gorgeous _wreck_ when he finally pushes up to look at her. Lips swollen with his kiss, hair spread out in an array above her head and skin flushed a pretty pink from the exertion of what they’ve done. 

He hasn’t pulled out of her yet, even though his cock is growing soft, half-hoping he could let the slick warmth of her rouse him back to hard so he can fuck her all over again.

She gives him a dreamy smile as she pushes the hair out of his face, taking a deep breath. “Well,” she laughs softly. “I guess you really don’t hate me.”

Ben breathes out a laugh of his own. “I guess you could say that.”

He pushes up to brush his lips against hers, enjoying the little content hum in her throat as she melts into it. She pulls away with wide eyes suddenly, giving him a worried look. “What about the rest of the week? We still have to record.”

“Well,” he starts. “I think this can only strengthen our on air chemistry.”

She laughs prettily. “Think you can manage to stay in the same room with me now?”

“I think I can manage,” he hums, pressing his lips to her cheek. “I’ll just have to think about everything I get to do when we’re done.”

Her teeth make a worried imprint against her lower lip. “But what about when I fly back to Brooklyn?”

He’s dumbfounded for a moment, thinking his luck can’t be that impossibly good, and then his mouth breaks into a wide grin. “Did you know I lived in Manhattan?”

Her lips curl slowly. “No. No, I didn't.”

“Plenty of time to… rehearse,” he says. “When we get back home.”

“Well… you have been a little stiff.” 

He nips at her lower lip even as she starts to giggle. “I’ll show you stiff.”

“Sort of what I’m hoping for,” she answers coyly.

Ben thinks to himself that he’s going to enjoy work a lot more from here on out. 

* * *

If anyone thinks it odd that Ben and Rey arrive at the studio together the next morning—they don’t mention it. 

They’re chatting over a bagel when they step into the recording room, Rey laughing at something Ben has just said before they spot Poe at the table in the center shuffling through files on his laptop. He gives them a friendly nod as they come in, seemingly oblivious to the change in them, and Ben has to clench his hands to keep from touching Rey as she walks past him. 

They both agreed to keep things quiet for now, wanting to wait until they’re back home to figure all of this out. Ben hasn’t told her yet that he plans to do _a lot_ of rehearsing when they’re both back in New York. 

Poe’s brow turns down when they both settle into his chairs, giving them a confused look as he points down at the laptop. “Hey, so I had a question.”

Ben’s eyes meet Rey’s across the table for a brief moment, flicking back to meet Poe’s gaze as he keeps his voice casual. “Shoot.”

“Oh, I was just going to say I found your demo file you made last night—by the way I’m so glad the two of you took some time to rehearse—but I can’t seem to figure out what chapter it’s from? Did you use the wrong script?”

Rey’s mouth is parted in surprise, and Ben feels just as thrown. “What demo?”

“Oh, I just found the new recording from last night when I got in this morning, I assumed you guys met up when Rey came after her cell phone… but it doesn’t match any of my scripts for the book.”

Rey looks mortified, and Ben feels something like shocked amusement as he pieces together what happened—realizing that he must have started a new recording when he reached to turn off the one he’d been listening to when Rey found him. It’s nothing short of a miracle that neither of them happened to say each other’s names seeing as they were both so... distracted. Thank fuck he closed it before they finished.

“That’s…” His gaze finds Rey across the table to flash her a sly grin. “That was just a bit of rehearsing. We were working on our… on air chemistry. It’s not from the book.”

“It’s not?” Poe frowns. “I mean I’m glad you two are really giving this a go, but if you’re going to work after hours, you really should focus on the material from the book. I don’t want you distracted from the script.”

Ben doesn’t tell Poe that he’s been _distracted from the script_ since first laying eyes on Rey, settling for a shrug instead.

“Sure, we’ll do that.” Rey’s biting back a grin now, and Ben struggles to keep his face straight. “I’m planning to do a little more rehearsing tonight.”

Poe nods as he closes his laptop, tucking it under his arm as he stands from the table to move towards the sound room. “Well, just try to use the script next time.”

He doesn’t think Poe hears him when he murmurs _no promises_ —but judging by Rey’s blush, he’s pretty sure _she_ does.

He doesn’t feel nervous now, when Poe sets up the opening for the next scene—no longer filled with a looming dread of how he’s going to keep from getting hard under the table when he’s trapped in this room with her voice that drives him crazy, not to mention the rest of her. Now, it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. 

There’ll be plenty of time for that later, Ben thinks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS RIDICULOUS THING

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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